


Passport

by virginie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginie/pseuds/virginie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has dreams too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passport

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny pre-series snippet.

Dean didn’t have a passport until the age of 22.  
  
At 26 he still hadn’t used it. It lived, curling at the edges, a little greasy, in the back pocket of his jeans. It was a hollow gesture towards freedom. For a guy who’d spent his whole life in the front seat of a car crisscrossing state after state, he couldn’t believe he’d never left America. He’d been to the West coast, the East coast, the North, and the South, but never away. Every month or two he’d take it out and flick through the unstamped pages, his 22 year-old self looking younger each time, and that brief moment of optimism further and further away.  
  
At seventeen Sammy had dreamed of traveling. He wanted to climb in the Himalayas, work in a bar in Rome, sail a boat round the Pacific. He’d come back from a run, sweat drenching his mop of hair, and collapse on the cracked concrete porch of whichever house they were currently passing through. He’d push his hair out of his eyes, stretch his gangly legs over the patchy grass, and ramble on and on about the future.  
  
Dean used to like listening to him. He’d pull a cigarette out of his leather jacket and smoke it, letting Sammy’s enthusiastic voice while away the afternoon. That was Dean at 21. Leather jacket cool, smoking even though he knew their Dad would kill him for compromising his fitness, but hey—young handsome demon hunters needed to look the part. Sammy didn’t care at all about looking the part, with his geeky running shorts and his geeky hair and his geeky passion for school. It had taken Dean a really long time to work out why Sammy didn’t care. It had taken Dean a really long time to understand that Sam wasn't just dreaming.  
  
At 22 Dean got photos of himself taken in a drugstore, filled out an application form and scraped together the money—not just for the passport, but for the required copy of his birth certificate as well. He had to take his cash to a bank and get them to turn it into legit bank cheques, just so he could post the application. It took months. Carrying the passport in his pocket was crazy. He’d had to ditch it while being arrested more than once over the years, stashing it somewhere when the cops were looking away and hoping like hell no one else would find it before he could get back.  
  
At 23 he lost his first leather jacket to a werewolf in Texas. At 24 he gave up smoking in Minnesota when he finally realized that most girls not only didn’t think it was cool, but didn’t like the taste. He always managed to hang on to the passport.  
  
The last time he saw Sam he was standing on the steps of a Greyhound bus, his cheap backpack slung over one shoulder. They'd looked at each other as the bus cranked into life, long enough for Dean to see that Sam had turned into a man. Sam’s broad hand had rested on the folding door of the bus, he'd flashed Dean a small grin, and then he was gone.  
  
It was a few days later that he decided to get a passport.


End file.
